


Mi Irie

by AdamantEve



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty is on a cruise, F/M, Jamaica, Jughead is a bar tender, mention of alcoholism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 12:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17528921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantEve/pseuds/AdamantEve
Summary: Jughead likes his job bar tending, he likes to people watch, and he liked it even more when one morning, a woman named Betty Cooper sits at his bar, miserable, but beautiful, on what should be a fun-filled, all inclusive Caribbean cruise.Inspired by the prompt: this year my family has decided we’re celebrating the holidays on a cruise and you’re the cute bartender who teases me for mourning the lack of snow





	Mi Irie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theheavycrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheavycrown/gifts).



> She got the prompt from this [prompt list](https://ideasonwriting.tumblr.com/post/182213893658/veronicabunchwrites-100-wintery-prompts-for-all).

_The Jamaican saying “irie” is often used to mean “everything is alright and fine.” Note that Jamaica has numerous variations when it comes to greeting someone. When someone asks “How are you feeling?” or “How yuh stay?” an appropriate response would be, “Mi irie.” ~[Sandals.com](https://www.sandals.com/blog/jamaican-sayings-and-phrases/)_

 

 

She looked pretty miserable.

Which wasn’t the most surprising thing on a tropical cruise, if Jughead were to be honest.

Working as a bartender on the Ringmaster Caribbean Cruise ship for the last couple of years, his station was perhaps the only place on the ship where the miserable can turn to for comfort. The bar attracted both party goers and debbie downers alike.

Not that he was there to judge. He, of all people, understood feeling miserable in a room full of happily drunk people, both as a bartender and a person who, as a kid, grew up surrounded by drunk adults in his father’s bar. It was the funhouse image of an Eloisian upbringing–Jughead at the Whyte Wyrm.

That he ended up getting a bartending job was arguably a predictable outcome, or the opposite of–depending on how one looked at it. Sure, it was fucked up that he was a ten year old doing his homework in a bar, but ultimately, bartending became the one thing he knew how to do by heart, and if he was going to get anything out of his trashy childhood, it may as well be money he would be getting on bar tips.

But because he spent a lot of time around inebriated people, he did get the impression that everyone could be an asshole if they were drunk enough. It wasn’t an ideal working environment, but he needed a job that paid well while he wrote his book and went to school, and in some sad way, it was all worth the validation he got out of finding those who understood misery like he did.

So seeing this sad face at his bar wasn’t particularly extraordinary. He’d seen all types. And misery aside, she looked great. The golden cascades of her hair fell in waves over the skin of her sun-kissed shoulders. Her bikini, a nice dusty blue with a knitted pattern design, flattered her figure. Paired with a wrap around her hips and showing off her nice curves, he couldn’t help but think that the only thing weird about her was that she was alone.  

* * *

 

Then again, it was early morning and quiet.  

A soft breeze blew in over the turquoise waters of the ocean, wafting comfortably into the shaded bar area on the deck. The sunshine bounced brightly over the chlorine blue pool.

The bar was mostly empty. Out in the pool area, just outside the bar’s perimeter, guest were at a minimum. Most families with children were sleeping in or still having breakfast at the mess hall.

The people enjoying the pool at this time were adults, and a concentration of them were at the far end, riveted by the aquatic aerobics instructor and his goofy routines.

Miss Misery was, in fact, watching these antics from where she sat, passive and unsmiling.

“Nobody really goes to that class to exercise,” Jughead said to her as she watched them. “They like to watch Archie doing his thing. I’m surprised they don’t have dollar bills to put in his swim trunks, honestly.”

Archie, the instructor, as if on cue, tore off his Ringmaster Caribbean Cruise t-shirt and turned on the poolside shower to bathe under the stream, all while his “students” hooted and hollered.

Miss Misery’s lips tightened to a line, but she seemed amused instead of inscenced. “Well, he’s increasing their pulse rate, for sure.”

“He loves the attention.”

She nodded and turned her barstool to finally face the bar. “He must.”

When she said nothing else and her gaze began to wander to the TV hanging over the bar, he figured she wouldn’t mind the conversation. This quiet in the morning, he liked to engage guests one on one. “So, what can I get you, miss?”

Surprise piqued in her sea-green eyes. “You serve alcohol this early?”

He laughed and put his hands out in an open gesture. “All inclusive means it’s always five in the afternoon.”

Her eyebrows crinkled with what he could only assume was a sudden onslaught of possibilities. “Alcohol for breakfast?” This was a real marvel of a thing for her.

“It’s been done. For the seasoned drinker, a Bloody Mary is the most cliche of drinks, but it’ll do for a vacationer. The more hardened imbibers ask for a Prairie Oyster–strictly a veteran hangover cure.”

“What’s a Prairie Oyster?”

“Raw egg, Worcestershire sauce, bit of tomato juice, vinegar, hot sauce, black pepper, and a shot of gin. Two if the hangover’s particularly bad.”

Her jaw dropped open briefly before it clamped shut. “Does that actually work?”

Jughead shrugged. “No idea. I don’t go on benders so I’ve never had one.”

She seemed to accept this, her eyes falling on the overhead menu. The drinks written on it in neon colored pens were from last night’s specials, but they were good for any day. He waited for her to say something.

“Um… sangria?”

“Wow. Living it!”

She rolled her eyes, but he did manage to get a chuckle out of her. He began working on her order.  It would take a little longer to put her drink together, because he did need to cut up some fresh fruit, but he didn’t mind. If it meant she would stay a little longer, it was worth the extra effort.

“I’m Betty, by the way,” she said as he worked. “I didn’t see you at the bar last night, um–Jughead?” She was reading off his name tag, but she went on without saying how strange she probably thought his name was. “Last night it was Toni, who routinely got hit on by men of all ages.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah, she’s a crowd favorite. Got that whole Coyote Ugly vibe going. She’s not a fan of men, though. She prefers girls.”

“Oh.” She said it like it explained things.

“So,” he said, chopping up some oranges into thin quarters. “If you’re not here because you’re hungover, and you weren’t here to drink in the first place, did you come to the deck for aerobics then change your mind when you realized it was more of a strip tease? Or maybe you’re smart and figured you can enjoy the show from here, comfortably perched on our soft barstools.”

She cocked a smile, finally. “I just wanted to get away from the chaos of the mess hall and my family. I figured they weren’t going to look for me here. I’m not a big drinker.”

“Well, now look at you. Knocking back booze for breakfast.”

She snorted. “Hardly.”

He finished chopping up the apples and he threw all his chopped fruits in a pitcher, halfway full of ice, and mixed the sangria in it. After he gave the mixture a stir, he poured some of it in a glass, threw in a hefty dose of tequila, and slid the drink in front of her. “You look like you need some tequila. That’s my special mix. And drinks are on me.” He winked.

She arched an eyebrow. “It’s an all inclusive cruise. Of course they’re on you.”

“They don’t mix it the way I do.”

She took a sip and she gasped. “Wow!” she rasped. “Potent.”

“Just for you.”

She began to laugh and threw him a sidelong glance. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He tilted his grin but said nothing.  

The truth was, since he started this job, he hadn’t said that to anyone but her.

***********************

She was back the next morning and this time, she ordered a tequila sunrise. She had on a different suit, starkly white against her tanning skin, and he may have been imagining things, but the top gave her breasts a spectacular cleavage that wasn’t as noticeable the day before. He had to remind himself to keep his eyes up, especially since hers seemed more interested in engaging him.

“Feeling better?” he asked, mixing her drink.

She shrugged, but her smile came easier. “Same shit, different day, but now I know you serve alcohol in the morning and you don’t water drinks down.”

He chuckled but pressed his finger lightly over his lips. “That last part’s a secret between you and me.”

Her tanned cheeks bloomed pink and Jughead eyed her for a moment, delighting on the effect he had on her. He slid the drink towards her and she sipped from its straw. She seemed less surprised by the alcohol content but she did blow a breath through her lips. “You must be breaking some All Inclusive Rule here.”

“You bet I am. Does that impress you?”

She quirked her gaze. “It depends on how drunk this makes me.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “Kind of a low bar. You were drunk after the one glass I gave you yesterday.”

“Hey, I was drinking on an empty stomach.” Her protest sounded weak.

He laughed and pulled a large plate from beneath the bar.  It had piles of bacon, layers of pancakes slathered in maple syrup and butter, and some scrambled eggs on the side. She stared at it as he offered her a clean fork. She slowly took the fork and shot him a suspicious squint. “Is this your breakfast?”

He nodded, grinning. “It’s my second one. It’s a fresh plate and I hadn’t touched it.  I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.”

Her gaze gave him the once over and a ripple of pleasure coursed through him, especially when her lashes fluttered as their eyes met again. “I can use some bacon and pancakes.”

He leaned over the counter and brought out a fork of his own, cutting into the pile of food on his plate. “So, if you don’t mind me asking… are you not enjoying yourself on this cruise? You come here in the morning and you always sound like you’re trying to forget something.”

“Oh, do I? Maybe you’re right. I’m on this cruise with my parents and my sister–not exactly the kind of getaway I was looking for. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with my mother’s sideways disapproval of how I look in my swimsuit, but I found out yesterday that a snowstorm hit New York City and I missed it. Will miss it. The snow will be nothing but filthy piles of ice on the side of the road by the time I get back to it, if I catch any of it at all.”

He couldn’t help but laugh.  “Wait a minute… are you telling me that you were all gloom and doom yesterday because you missed a snowstorm in New York… while being on a cruise ship on the tropical waters of the Caribbean? Really?”

Her cheeks reddened again, but she seemed poised to defend herself. “You laugh, but New York after a snowstorm, when everyone’s still indoors and the streets are quiet–it’s the most beautiful thing.”

“Oh, is it?”

She nodded eagerly. “It is. That thick layer of undisturbed white powder, lights blinking through the snow–all you can see are the parked cars covered in a shimmering white sheet and the buildings along its side look like pretty gingerbread houses–it’s so picturesque. The first people to emerge are usually kids with their parents, eager to slide down snow hills before the roads are salted and the dream is obliterated by modern machinery. If you close your eyes and listen to their laughter, it feels warm. It feels like waking up to a fresh new life. There’s nothing like it.”

He gets it. He grew up in Ohio and he knew what the aftermath of a snowstorm looked like, but he imagined that New York City was prettier than Toledo, and most people would pick a tropical paradise over a snowy cityscape. Not him, personally. He didn’t care where he was.

“You’re just going to have to comfort yourself with free alcohol, white sand, and blue, warm waters.”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “I suppose so.” She followed it with a laugh. “So, when do you get to enjoy the white sand and blue waters?”

He shrugged. “I mostly don’t. In my free time, I hang around the ship and write.”

“Write?”

He nodded. “I’m on break right now but I’m completing my novel for my creative writing graduate program.”

She seemed only mildly surprised. “Which graduate program?”

“Iowa Writer’s Workshop.”

“Well, now, that’s impressive.”

He shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth. “Had I known, I would’ve started off with that.”

She threw him a mildly chastising look, even as she began to slice a piece off the pancake. “I’d like to think I come off as someone who would be impressed by a guy getting his Masters in creative writing as opposed to breaking the rules of a cruise ship branded Ringmaster.”

“You’ll be surprised at how mentioning the Iowa Writer’s Workshop does absolutely nothing for most people around here.”

“Maybe I’m not most people. So tell me, Jughead,” she paused and took a sip of her tequila sunrise. “If I were to, say, ask you to escort me outside the ship at our next island stop, would you be too busy writing your great American novel?”

This wasn’t exactly the first time he’d gotten asked out by a guest, but this was absolutely the first time he felt a thrill for it in the pit of his stomach.

She sipped her drink again and he watched her pretty pink lips mover over the straw.  

“It’s against the rules for the crew to fraternize with the guests,” he said, softly, so that only the two of them would hear.

“Well, then,” she breathed. “Now’s the perfect time to impress me with your rule breaking, Jughead.”

tbc


End file.
